


What Lies Beyond the Veil

by telltalesketch



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Additional Tags TBD, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Dutch doesn't take Micah's shit, F/M, Fluff, Lich, Magic, Molly left Dutch before Blackwater, Monster Hunters, Slow Burn, Spirit of Vengeance, Strong Language, Supernatural - Freeform, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, because we aren't getting an Undead Nightmare so I'm writing my own, fix-it sort of, ghost rider Arthur Morgan, if there's smut it will be a separate fic, werewolf Dutch Van Der Linde
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24485197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telltalesketch/pseuds/telltalesketch
Summary: Forced into New Hanover by the Pinkertons with his gang, Dutch Van Der Linde struggles to deal with the changes that come with a beastly encounter outside Colter. Though where Dutch finds help in an old lover, Arthur Morgan is pulled into a centuries-old fray just trying to help the Doctor in Valentine.Will the gang survive the turmoil wrought by the decisions of their leader? Or will they fall beyond the veil?
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Dutch van der Linde/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. The Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to a supernatural AU! I've had this brewing in my head for a while and decided to finally flesh it out and post it as a full story. Also, as is my nature as an artist, every chapter will come with an illustration! Keep an eye out for it at the end of each chapter (I've tried my best in the HTML to make sure it doesn't get funky between platforms. (There will also be a note about character focus each chapter that way if anyone is looking for specific character exploration they don't have to hunt for it.)
> 
> Character Focus: Dutch Van Der Linde

Stars hung lazily over the San Francisco cityscape as all lay quiet aside from the bustling saloons. Cigar smoke hung heavy in the air as a pair of young men and their teenaged recruit sat at a poker table. Dutch Van Der Linde was freshly shaved and his short swept-back black hair paired well with his winning smile. Hosea Matthews sat well-dressed by his side, putting on his best act as he pulled laughter from their prey. All while an unkempt and scruffy Arthur Morgan sat watching in awe. Their poker competitors were stupid and so easily lulled into a sense of security. Perfect targets for Hosea and Dutch to drain dry. The game proved so easy that Dutch felt comfortable having a few drinks. Comfortable enough to accept the sweet and sultry smiles of a young working lady. Much to Hosea’s slight disappointment. Though he gave Hosea the nod to keep going and slipped away into the night with the woman.

She pulled him further away from the bar with a sing-song laugh. Dutch happily ignored the unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach as she led him away. He was drunk enough to not care about where he was being led. He only cared about the prospect of sex.

The young woman shoved him up against an alley wall once she’d led him far from the saloon. She went to kiss him immediately and he gladly leaned into it. The kiss was sloppy, even more so as he deepened it. His cheeks were red with drunkenness and he felt the anticipation coil up in his core. She moved from his lips to kiss down the column of his neck where it met his shoulders. He let out a pleased, drunken hum as she sucked on his pulse point.

Then he felt her bite.

Dutch let out a pained grunt as her teeth sunk into the tender flesh. “S-Stop.” He groaned as he tried to push her off him. But she had pinned him to the wall, and it was only then that he realized how _strong_ she was. He could feel his blood leaving his body. A sensation that was so familiar yet so foreign it caused his heart to beat rapidly. Panic set in as he began to frantically try to break free from her. Though he was only met with unnatural growls through the gurgling of his own blood.

“Get off me!”

**_BANG._**

The woman pulled away from his neck and dropped him as he felt blood spray against his face. Dutch’s backside hit the cobblestone harshly as he slid down the wall. His hand immediately went to cradle his neck where he felt fresh blood oozing out of the open wound. He looked up at the woman who was still standing with a bullet hole through her head. A wound that had soon healed completely as the unearthly creature stared at the owner of the gun.

Dutch saw a shadowed figure standing at the edge of the alley. They were slightly below average height and wore black from hat to boot. They were perfectly silhouetted against the streetlamps on the main road. The streetlamps reflecting off the engraved Schofield revolver that had just been fired.

The creature hissed at the figure. The inhuman vocalization sent chills down Dutch’s spine. His savior advanced down the alleyway toward their target. They fired the remaining shots in the revolver at the creature. Every shot landed despite the attempts that it made to dodge them. With the bullets spent the figure pushed aside their coat and holstered the gun. Finally giving Dutch a better glimpse of what lie beneath the long black duster.

A double-action gun belt sat about their wider hips with gleaming silver bullets strung in each slot. He caught sight of another belt above it. It was strung with pouches and what appeared to be more items meant for unknown purposes. One of which was an engraved silver tube that the hunter pulled from its holster.

Dutch recoiled as the creature tried to slash at the hunter with inhuman claws. Though his worry eased as the hunter blocked the attack with expert ease. The fight that ensued almost made him forget about the wound that was still open in his neck. Every slash the creature made was blocked perfectly. Though the hunter slipped up. As they blocked a swipe from the left, they neglected to notice the other clawed hand coming from below. The creature caught the hunter under their chin and sent them flying to the cobblestone with a hard thud. The hat flew off their head and Dutch finally got a look at the hunter that saved him. They were a woman with short strawberry blonde hair, light skin, and hazel green eyes. Though he couldn’t make out more of her features as the creature’s shadow descended upon her.

The monster threw itself at her with a horrific hiss.

**_KUH-CLANG._**

Dutch’s eyes shoot open, sitting up in his cot as a scream catches in his throat. He sits panting in his tent as his heartbeat slows. His eyes dart around frantically to confirm his surroundings. His shoulders only relax when he confirms that he’s safe and sound.

He lets out an exhausted sigh bringing his hands up to cover his face. He rubs his eyes and groans, throwing his feet over the edge of the cot. He looks back at the pillow and a feeling of loneliness settles in his chest. An emptiness that leaves him grimacing as he turns away.

It’d been three days since Molly left him.

Three days of pretending to not be affected. Three days of saving face for the gang so that their faith in their leader would not be shaken. Three nights of lying in bed alone longing for a companion. Someone to wrap himself around when the anxiety threatened to overwhelm him. Perhaps that’s why he started dreaming about _her_ again.

It's been twenty years and that memory is still clear as day. Every time he thinks of the huntress a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He calls her his savior when he tells that story to the gang. Though Hosea often chides him for telling such fanciful tales, especially around little Jack. Except Dutch knows none of it was fanciful. All of it was as real as the rings he wears on his fingers. Hosea knew it too, he and Arthur found him in that alleyway that night. They both saw the grievous wound on his neck. They met the huntress for themselves. They know her name as well as he does. Though he believes that Hosea would rather keep the existence of such nightmares a secret. Same with Arthur.

He shakes the distracting thoughts from his mind. He cannot be reminiscing about the past right now. What matters is the future. A future of a restful night of sleep and robbing a ferry the next afternoon.

However, sleep doesn’t seem to come.


	2. Bitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Character Focus: Dutch Van Der Linde

_God Dammit._

_God **fucking** dammit._

Three days in a storm. Four of his men lost, and two members of his family dead. Now he’s knee deep in snow and neck deep in a shootout. Dutch peeks out from behind the woodshed to take down one of the rats closing in on Arthur. As he retreats back to cover he catches the flash off gun fire from the top window of the cabin. He knows he doesn’t have a good line of sight on him.

“Watch out! One up top in the window!” He calls out over the storm and gunshots in hopes that Arthur or Micah will hear. He gets his answer soon as he watches Arthur take a quick shot to put the man down. Dutch shoots another O’Driscoll who foolishly steps out into the open beside him. Then another. The bodies pile up quickly in the snow.

“We’ve got a runner! You see him, Arthur?” He hears Micah call out and watches as Arthur quickly leaves his cover to gun down the remaining O’Driscoll.

Dutch lets out a sigh of relief and holsters his guns as the final man falls. “That’s my boy, Arthur! Good shooting.” He calls out with a small chuckle. He leaves cover to move out and look over the bodies that lay in the snow before him. He sees the green of their scarves fluttering in the wind of the storm.

“God damn O’Driscoll boys, here?” He growls out. “Why?”

“I don’t know, maybe the same reason as us.” He hears Micah respond and Dutch huffs at the notion. First, they have to deal with Pinkertons on their tails and now they have to contend with O’Driscolls for shelter.

“Micah, go bring the horses closer to the house.” He barks out as he begins moving toward the cabin. He pats Arthur on the shoulder as he comes up next to him. “Arthur, let’s go search the cabin.” His tone with Arthur is softer as he leads him up into the cabin.

As they enter the first thing Dutch notices is the smell of booze. It hits him like a freight train and his initial thought is that they were planning on drinking enough to light the whole place up with the fumes.

“Smells like a party in here.” He laughs slightly at Arthur’s remark.

“Just, turn the place upside down. We need all the supplies we can get.” Dutch says before he begins rifling through the possessions in the house. He only stops grabbing what canned goods and fresh food he can when Arthur complains about having not eaten. The thought hits him too, he hasn’t eaten in a few days himself yet the hunger hasn’t set on him. He thinks to eat one of the apples he finds but shakes his head. He can eat later. “You should eat something now. Get your strength up for the ride back.” He says to Arthur before continuing his own search.

They pass the search with idle talk of O’Driscolls and the poor souls that lived in the cabin. Dutch even sees a wedding photo, the poor man was married. Upon his search he finds a gun tucked away in a cupboard. Odd place for it, he thinks. He opens the chamber to find the gun fully loaded. Though the bullets gleam differently in the candlelight than the ones strung on his belt. Different material most likely. He shrugs and shoves the gun into the pack with the rest of the supplies. He heaves the bag up under his shoulder then freezes at the sound of a howl outside.

It sounds distant though its so loud it pierces the roaring wind of the storm with ease. Dutch feels his blood run cold. The howl so similar to a wolf yet not all at once. The bone chilling cry of a monster wanting blood.

“Dutch…you hear that?” He hears Arthur question softly, disbelief present in his voice.

“I heard….come on. Let’s check the rest of the supplies and get back to everyone. I don’t want to stay any longer than we have to.” He says quickly, leaving the cabin and trudging through the snow to the Count.

“Did you hear that?” Micah asks loudly, his voice laden with fear.

“Oh yeah we heard it.” Dutch replies as he straps the bags down on his saddle as fast as his frozen fingers would allow.

“Arthur, you go check that barn. Micah, run through the cabin again and see if you catch anything we might’ve missed. Both of you be quick.” He says sternly, watching as Arthur diligently makes his way to the barn and Micah complies with a slight huff.

The supplies are completely strapped down by the time he hears scuffling in the barn. He pulls his gun from its holster and quickly makes his way to the entrance only to slow down once he reaches the opening. He aims his gun to the sky and saunters closer as he watches Arthur beat the ever-loving shit out of the remaining O’Driscoll. “What’s going on?” He says, trying to hide a chuckle.

“This guy just jumped me!” Arthur shouts, sounding offended as he slams his fist into the man’s nose. Blood gushes freely from his nostrils following a sickening crack.

“Oh, did he now?” Dutch laughs outright, holstering his gun and leaning on the frame of the barn door as Arthur throws the man to the ground and grabs his neck.

“Sneaky little bastard. Should I kill him?” Arthur looks to Dutch, his fist raised and ready to strike or go for his gun. Dutch feels pride swell in his chest as he thinks on the question.

“No…Not yet…” He says slowly. “Find out what they’re doing here, and where Colm is.” He says with a measured pace. If they were going to be up in the mountains around O’Driscolls he wants to know exactly where they’d be camping out. Initially he thinks to just avoid them, but where’s the fun in that? He might actually get the chance to watch Colm piss himself knowing he’s being hunted down.

And with a few heavy punches from Arthur he has his answers. Colm is camped southwest, fixing to rob a train. Would be a shame if someone stole it first, he thinks. Dutch chuckles darkly and pushes off of his reclining spot against the door. “Well, I would say it looks like you have this, Arthur. Do what you want with him, I don’t care. But be quick and bring that horse with you when you’re done.” He finishes his words sternly, the thought of the howl pressing him to be hasty.

He makes his way back to the horses and sees that Micah still isn’t out of the cabin. “Hurry it up Micah we’ve gotta get back!” He shouts through the storm and toward the cabin. He checks all of the horses to make sure everything is strapped down when he sees the O’Driscoll running off into the woods. His heart sinks a little, knowing that the poor bastard might be food for whatever that howl belonged to. He sees Arthur approaching with the horse in tow when he hears a crash and a woman’s scream from inside the cabin.

“Get away from me!”

His heart races in a panic at the scream and he runs up the steps and throws the door open. He sees Micah leering at the barely clothed woman from across the dining table. He sees a terrible kind of lust filling Micah’s eyes and it makes him sick. Especially when he recognizes the woman as the widow from the wedding photo.

“Micah, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” He shouts as Arthur bursts in behind him.

“Look what I found in the cellar! Wild thing ain’t you?” Micah says with a sick kind of glee as he dodges a bottle she throws at him. Dutch feels his blood boil.

“Leave her alone!” He says sternly, panic lacing his voice as he moves closer to Micah.

“I wasn’t doing nothing!” Micah retorts like a spoiled child. “She’s one of them O’Driscolls!”

Dutch moves to try and diffuse the situation. “No she ain’t Micah look at her!” He says before he turns to face the woman. He tries to look her in the eyes to grab her attention. “Miss, miss!” Her focus stays on Micah as she tries to keep distance from him across the table, throwing more plate ware at him and grabbing a knife.

“Miss are yo-“ He’s cut off when Micah simply throws the table, the lantern crashing to the floor and spilling burning liquid across all it touches. The smell of fire is instant and so is Dutch’s snap in patience.

“Oh you fool, Micah!” He shouts as he grabs Micah by the shoulders and throws him back away from the panicked woman. Watching as Arthur shoves Micah even further and stands between them.

Dutch looks back to the woman and his demeanor changes immediately. “Miss, now it is gonna be okay.” He says calmly and quietly, looking into her brown eyes and seeing the fear so evident in them. “We mean you no harm.” He holds his hands out to grab hers, careful of the knife she’s brandishing.

He moves in closer and catches her hand as she makes a weak attempt to thrust the blade at him. She breathes heavily and concedes quickly. He sets his hand on her shoulder gingerly and begins to pull her close. “Come on, it’ll be okay.” He begins to lead her from the cabin. Dutch looks to see the fire spreading quickly as he grabs a blanket that is sitting far from its reach.

“We need to get out of here, and quick.” He says urgently as he wraps the blanket around the woman’s shoulders.

They break out into the snow quickly, Dutch gasps as the sudden cold hits his face. He asks the woman if she’s alright and frowns as she chokes out her response through tears. He feels for her, on top of losing her husband he can’t imagine what Colm’s boys did to her afterward. His grip tightens on her shoulder as he walks her over to the Count.

“You’re safe now.” He says to her soothingly before he turns to look back at the house. “And you can’t stay here.” The sounds of the flames reaching the second floor punctuate his words. Fire spurts from the top window and he looks back to see the dread in the woman’s face. She just lost her whole life…over O’Driscolls and Micah. He frowns and squeezes her shoulder.

“You come with us.”

Dutch hands Arthur the lantern as he mounts the Count, watching as Arthur puts the woman on the back of Taima and hops up into the saddle.

“We’re bad men, but we ain’t them.” Arthur says and Dutch frowns a little. He wishes that there wasn’t some truth to the first part of that statement. But the thought of shooting that innocent woman as a distraction makes his stomach flip. Arthur’s right, especially after the Ferry job.

They begin trudging through the snow with Dutch in the lead as he tries to focus on getting back to their new camp as soon as possible. “What’s your name miss?” He asks her over the howling of the wind. If she’s going to be staying with them then he at least needs a name.

“Adler…” She starts quietly.

“Adler?” He repeats questioningly, hoping for more.

“Sadie Adler…Mrs.” She corrects…. “I-he…he was my husband.” She says in disbelief and he feels his heart break for her. They press on through the snow without Dutch asking her another question. She probably wants to be left with her thoughts.

They crest the mountain top from where they came when the howl sounds again. Dutch feels his blood run cold and looks back to Arthur and Micah. They both look disturbed as the howl is closer this time. Mrs. Adler however looks the most terrified.

“Go faster.” She says bluntly, panic evident in her voice.

Dutch looks at her questioningly and opens his mouth to ask further but she cuts him off.

“Ride faster! If it catches us…” She trails off, fear in her eyes.

She knows exactly what’s coming after them. And based on her look it isn’t natural. His memory sparks up. Twenty years ago he had that same fear in his voice when he told Hosea and Arthur what happened. Though this creature seems far worse. He nods and pushes the Count to a gallop at her words, knowing Arthur and Micah will speed up to follow suit.

As they press closer toward the camp, Dutch hears another shout. This time one far more human. Human, full of fear, and recognizable.

“John…” He mutters out, slowing the Count down as he waits for another cry. He hears another shout off to his right, this time unmistakable and followed by a ferocious roar. Without a second thought he steers the Count toward the sound and pushes him to a gallop. “John!”

“Dutch what are you doing?!” Arthur cries out in shock as he and Micah have no choice but to right their course and follow him with Mrs. Adler in tow.

Dutch made a promise. To himself and Arthur. _He’s not going to lose anyone else. No matter the cost._

It’s not long before Dutch enters upon a clearing and looks wide-eyed at the scene before him.

John is firing wildly at a hulking creature, his face marred with fresh gashes and his leg bloody as he lays on the ground. Dutch hops off the Count and sends the horse in the opposite direction. He’s quick to pull his guns out and begin firing at the beast to get it away from John. He isn’t thinking straight, he knows that but he can’t let John be killed.

The beast rears back to look at Dutch as a shot lands in its shoulder and he finally gets a good look at it. The thing stands a good foot taller than him, covered from head to toe in chestnut brown fur. It stands like a man on wolf-like feet, its body hunched and rippling with muscle beneath its coat. Its face is deformed, a mesh of man and wolf unlike anything he’d ever seen drawn in any books. Its large white teeth reflect the lantern light as the creature roars out at Dutch. Yet its eyes are the most haunting. Glowing yellow like a fire had been lit behind them.

Dutch keeps firing at it, though the bullets do nothing to slow it down or stop it. It advances on him and he backs up to meet its pace yet it covers so much more distance than he does. John sees it advancing on him and shouts out. “Hey you ugly bastard!” He fires a shot that glances the beast’s head and it snaps around to stare at him instantly.

Now John has its attention. And its pissed.

Dutch watches as the creature suddenly starts running for John. He doesn’t register the shouts or other bullets that begin riddling it as Arthur and Micah finally get there. He realizes that bullets won’t stop this thing. And its going to kill John if it gets to him. He knows that for sure since it looks like John can’t even pull himself up to run.

The panic takes full hold now. No. He’s not losing John. No way in _hell_ is he losing John. Dutch’s feet carry him before he realizes it as he sprints toward his adopted son. For a moment he thinks he’s almost faster than the monster. _Almost._

As he nearly reaches John he dives to intercept the beast and try to push John out of the way. Though the result is that Dutch and monster collide. He feels his breathe leave him as the beast’s weight and momentum carry them past John and into he snow behind him. Dutch wheezes as he tries to bring air back into his lungs. The two roll around for a moment before the beast is on top of Dutch with his face buried in the snow. He pulls his arm up to shoot it but soon realizes that he dropped his gun. So he resorts to trying to punch the thing in the face. All while the sound of gunshots and shouting ring out behind them, the beast twitching as the bullets hit its back.

Dutch tries swinging harder as he feels the beast’s clawed hand sink into his right shoulder. He’s desperate to get it off of him and only now is he realizing the consequences of his hasty actions.

Then he feels its teeth sink into his left shoulder. Dutch cries out at the blinding hot pain that spreads through his veins. Like they’d been lit on fire and the bite was trying to burn him from the inside out. He briefly thinks back to the attack twenty years ago. _This is surely worse._

The beast thrashes its head and he feels the fire grow worse as his flesh is torn and he begins bleeding freely. He cries out again, still trying to hit the beast wherever he can. He hears Arthur and Micah shooting at it in a panic. The beast grows tired of the bullets and decides to take out the others first. It stands with Dutch’s shoulder still in its maw. Dutch yelps as it drags him to stand, his arms flailing to grab hold and pull himself up as he feels the teeth pull at his flesh. Then it lets go, throwing him into a nearby tree. Dutch grunts as the trunk makes contact with his chest and he falls to the snow below. He lies still for a moment, breathless and straining to pull himself up. He feels the blood leaving the open wound on his shoulder and grimaces. It’s an all too familiar feeling.

The snarls and growls of the beast fill the air as it takes each bullet in stride, pressing toward the group. Until one particular shot rings out. The beast finally yelps, recoiling back as a bullet hits its shoulder. Dutch swears he sees the wound smoke. The monster finally backs away and runs off into the forest as quickly as it can.

Dutch groans as he tries to move, his shoulder screaming as the wound makes itself known. He feels the pulsing of scratches across his chest and other shoulder as he tries moving past the pain.

“Dutch!” He hears Arthur call out as the edges of his vision darken. He catches the silhouette of Arthur looming over him and he groans. He feels consciousness slipping away as he fights to at least sit up. Though Arthur holds him down. “Don’t move. We’ll get you back to camp Dutch just hang on.” Arthur tries to say soothingly, though the panic and worry is so clear in his voice.

Dutch nods, relaxing into the blood stained snow as he fights to keep his eyes open.

“Holy shit, what was that thing?” He hears John curse. He sounds alive. He sounds alright.

That knowledge is enough for Dutch to let unconsciousness take him.


	3. Paying a Social Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Character Focus: Arthur Morgan

Arthur groans as he feels someone gently shake his shoulder. His arm comes up to bat away absently at the hand that tries to pull him from sleep. The voice that calls to him is distant as he tries to drift back off. The one the hand belongs to shoves his shoulder harder and he yelps slightly as he feels himself almost fall over.

“Arthur, wake up.” He hears Hosea’s voice loud and clear now. His eyes crack open as he sits up and rests his elbows on his knees.

“I was just resting my eyes, Hosea.” He groans, running his hands over his face.

Hosea scoffs. “I could hear you snoring outside.” He chuckles as Arthur turns to look at him with a sour face. Though his eyes move over to Dutch and his smile falls quickly. Arthur’s gaze follows and he feels his heart sink at the sight.

Dutch lays in the bed in front of him, unconscious and looking like he’s near death’s door. His shoulder and torso are bandaged beneath a thick layer of blankets and furs. His face is pale, and his eyes have heavy dark patches circling them. His breathing is so slow it worries Arthur every time he doesn’t see his chest rise fast enough. He wonders what they’ll do if they lose him, like they’ve lost so many others the past few days. He only looks away when he feels Hosea’s hand rest gently on his shoulder.

“He’ll make it.” He says simply with a warm and reassuring smile. Something Hosea seems to have mastered over the years.

Arthur sighs, nodding as he tries to believe Hosea’s words. Though another string of thoughts come to mind as he thinks on the idea of Dutch living. The creature that attacked him, it seemed so foreign yet so familiar at the same time. Like it’d jumped straight from Penny Dreadfuls and folklore. One question eats away at him again, like its been eating away at him for almost two days.

What if Dutch turns into that thing?

The thought of Dutch becoming that monster sends a shiver down his spine. He’s only pulled from the idea when Hosea squeezes his shoulder a little tighter. “I got something for you to do, keep your mind off it.” He says reassuringly, trying to lead Arthur out of the chair. Though Arthur doesn’t budge.

“What’s that?”

“You know how Colm’s boys are camped nearby?”

“Yeah.”

“Go down there and see how many there are. Think we might want to know how worried we should be. But _don’t_ go shooting anyone.”

Arthur scoffs a little. “I ain’t the one you need to be saying that too.”

“I know.” Hosea retorts, annoyed. “But I might as well say it, make sure it sticks in that thick skull of yours. Now get up.” He practically shoos Arthur from the chair, taking his place once the younger man is standing. “Take Lenny and Javier with you too. In case anything does go south.” He adds as he watches Arthur leave.

“Sure.”

Arthur stumbles as he exits the cabin, the light and cold hitting him all too hard. He shakes it off and treads through the snow to the main house. He pushes the door open and looks around quickly, catching sight of everyone around the fire.

“Lenny. Javier. I need you two to come with me.” He calls out before closing the door and heading for their horses. He doesn’t feel the need to wait, especially as he hears the clunking of their boots and the clattering of the door closing behind him.

“Where we headed, Arthur?” Lenny asks after shivering at the cold as he catches up to him.

Arthur looks over to Lenny as the three men reach their horses. “Hosea wants us to see how many of Colm’s boys are up here with us.” He huffs out as he unhitches his horse.

Javier pulls himself up into his saddle with a small grunt. “Shouldn’t we bring more of us if were going after O’Driscolls?” He asks, leaning forward as he waits for Arthur and Lenny.

“Nah, Hosea just wants us to count them. No guns, no killing. Unless we have to of course.”

“Sounds easy then.” Lenny adds with a confident smile.

“I hope so.” Arthur says with a small chuckle before he pulls away from the hitching posts. He spurs his horse into a trot as he starts south. “Their camp is a little ways southwest of us, just need to follow the main trail. They’re near some lake.”

Arthur leads the small posse down the trail, following the river as best he can through the wind kicked flurries of snow that fly into their faces. He can hear Javier curse under his breath, probably about the cold. They ride that way in silence for a short while, and Lenny is the first to speak.

“What the hell happened last night?”

Arthur freezes at his words as the memories flood in. He remembers John yelling. Dutch suddenly veering off to go save him. Arthur thought he’d lost his god damn mind and in the end he did. He came in just in time to see Dutch lunge to keep the beast away from John. He can still hear the elder man screaming as the monster bites into his shoulder. As the creature throws him like he weighs _nothing_. Arthur hangs his head as he remembers the creature turning on them. It’s piercing golden eyes were so inhuman it still sends chills down his spine. How it’s wolf-like teeth glowed in the light of their lanterns. How it yelped out when Mrs. Adler shot it. _With a silver bullet._

“Arthur?” Lenny questions after Arthur goes quiet and still.

He’s immediately pulled back to reality by the younger man’s word. “Dutch got attacked by some kind of…beast or something. Can’t really say much more to it.”

“John thinks it was a werewolf.” Javier says, the disbelief clear as he chuckles a little at the idea.

Lenny scoffs. “Really? Marston has gone and lost his mind. I bet it was just some kind of lunatic lost in the woods.”

Arthur turns back to Lenny. “One thing I’m sure of is that it wasn’t a man. The only thing human about that thing was that it stood on two legs.” He watches as Lenny seems to tense at the sternness in his voice.

Javier chimes in, his tone full of genuine curiosity. “What do you think it was, Arthur?”

Arthur falls quiet again, trying to comb through his mind for the right word as to what that thing was. Yet all his mind can go back to was what John said. _Werewolf_. He looks back ahead at the road, opening his mouth to speak. “I…It wasn’t natural I think-“ He cuts himself off as he sees the lake. Then he catches the sight of smoke floating up into the sky from just beyond a mountain ride. “Think we found their camp. We can talk about this later.” He says as he spurs his horse faster through the snow.

The trio climbs up a mountainside just beside the smoke stack. Arthur signals for them to stop just as they near the crest. “Lenny, grab your binoculars. Want you to check this out with me.”

Lenny nods and hops down from his horse as Arthur does. Javier grabs his sawn off from its holster and keeps watch of the path they just came. The two men shuffle through the snow to the edge of the cliffside. Arthur goes to grab his binoculars, yet stops as he looks into the valley below. As does Lenny.

“Holy shit…” Lenny says, stepping away from the edge.

Below them in the valley the snow is bathed in red. Even from this distance Arthur knows its all blood. He can see the O’Driscolls laying motionless in the snow. Many of them not physically whole. He still braves his binoculars and looks down, checking for any motion. Any sign of anyone or anything down there that’s alive. He sees nothing aside from the carnage in higher detail. Organs, parts, and the torn bodies they belong to strune about the camp. At least 20 men Arthur guesses. The smoke was coming from a fire that died out well into the morning.

“We should leave.” Lenny says as he begins turning around and heading back for his horse. “Don’t gotta worry about the O’Driscoll’s jumping us if they’re all dead.”

Arthur sighs and steps away from the edge, following Lenny. “There’s still supplies down there we could take.”

“What if whoever did that is still down there, Arthur?” Lenny asks incredulously.

“Did what?” Javier chimes in as their conversation nears him.

Lenny turns to Javier. “The entire camp down there was massacred by something!” Lenny exclaims. Javier then looks at Arthur curiously. “There’s blood and bodies everywhere!” Lenny adds in frustration.

Arthur lets out a frustrated sigh. “Stay here then. I’ll head down there and see if I can find any supplies.” He says, turning toward a path he spotted.

Lenny’s frustration immediately gives way to worry. “Arthur that ain’t worth-“

“Lenny we’re running out of food and supplies. If we don’t find _something_ we’re gonna end up facing a slower death then the poor bastards down in that camp.” Arthur’s face is pulled into a tight frown though his eyes carry a softer quality. One of worry.

Lenny simply frowns, then sighs. “I’ll wait for you, but I’m not going down there.” He says simply.

Arthur looks to Javier. “I’ll stay here too. I don’t have the stomach for seeing mutilation.”

With a nod and a small huff Arthur begins his trek down into the valley. He winds down the narrow cliffsides, careful of the pitch as he feels his footing slip more than a couple of times. He reaches the bottom of the valley and immediately has his cattleman in hand. As he walks the snow turns from white to red as the blood begins to seep closer. The carnage is worse up close.

Intestines spill from bodies that were torn at the middle. Some were missing their bottom halves entirely. Pieces of organs littered boxes and mining carts. One man was missing the lower half of his face, tongue hanging from the gap where his jaw once was.

Arthur looks away with a grimace. He trains his eyes on the building in the center as it seems like the best place to start looking for any kind of supplies. He walks cautiously to the door, his steps crunching on the snow.

Then he sees something move in the building.

He freezes for a moment, pulling the hammer back on his gun. He steels himself to approach again and braces himself by the door. In one motion Arthur kicks the door open and points his gun into the open space.

“I’m unarmed.”

Arthur’s aim immediately snaps to the owner of the voice. Though as he sees the man with his hands in the air he holds off on pulling the trigger. He stands about his same height, though his frame is thinner. He’s wearing a severely torn pair of black pants, bloodstained white shirt, and shabby black coat that is far too large for him. His skin is pale, made bluish by the cold and apparent exhaustion. Though what sets Arthur on edge is the fact that blood is smeared on his hands. His chestnut brown hair is disheveled, and Arthur sees graying on his temples and throughout the thick beard on his face. He keeps his gun aimed at the man’s head, his face pulled into a tight frown.

“I have no intention of harming you.” The man’s blue eyes are intense and tired, and Arthur catches the British accent.

“Now why don’t I believe you, Mister?” Arthur says as he looks at the man down his sights.

The stranger sighs. “If I did plan on hurting you I would have already tried.”

Arthur holds his gun on the man for a moment, but he eventually concedes and drops his aim. Though he still keeps his gun in hand and ready to fire. The man lets out a sigh of relief and drops his hands slowly. Arthur notices the man grimace as his arms come to rest by his side and finds it odd. “You an O’Driscoll?” He asks, his voice stern and accusatory.

“God no.” The stranger’s immediate and vehement response almost makes Arthur smile. Though that brings to mind a lot more questions.

“The hell you doing sticking around here then? You seen what’s outside?” Arthur says as he nods toward the door.

The stranger seems to go pale as Arthur asks that question, though he takes a deep breath to collect himself. “It’s…a complicated situation.”

Arthur is immediately suspicious again his grip tightens around his gun. His mind goes back to the stranger’s grimace from earlier and he feels a chill creep up his spine as he remembers the monster’s cries as it was shot in the shoulder. “I’m gonna need a better answer than that.”

The man sighs. “You wouldn’t-“ He cuts himself off and his gaze moves toward one of the windows. Arthur’s brows burrow in frustration as the man goes quiet. “I wouldn’t wha-“ He’s cut off as the man suddenly shushes him.

He ducks down immediately and crouches by one of the windows, grabbing Arthur’s shoulder and bringing him with him as he does, yet Arthur resists. “What the hell are you-“

“Jesus Christ! That monster tore up everyone…”

Arthur immediately ducks down next to the stranger at the sound of outside voices.

“Why the hell did we come back up here again?”

“Can’t rob a train without blowing the tracks. And we left the dynamite.”

Arthur and the stranger share a look and then Arthur’s gaze moves up behind the stranger. He sees the crate labeled with explosives. It’s more than enough to blow train tracks. The Stranger follows his look and sees the crate. Then he peaks up over the window quickly. He moves back down and looks back to Arthur.

“We’re surrounded.”

Arthur lets out a quiet sigh of frustration. “Course we are.” He looks back to the crate and an idea springs to mind. “What’s your name, mister?”

The man seems to be taken aback by the question. He seems to mull it over in his mind before he finally responds. “Frederick Abberline.”

Arthur smirks. “How fast can you run Mister Abberline?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever to get up, but hey I did it! Also with the gore involved in this chapter it didn't feel right to post it (especially with the illustration) at the initial time I wanted to post it.


	4. Fancy Words for Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Character Focus: Arthur Morgan

_“Fast enough.”_

Lenny stands atop the ledge with his binoculars drawn, staring down into the massacred O’Driscoll camp below. Javier stands behind him, peering over his shoulder as they both watch the rival men wander around the camp.

“How the hell is Arthur going to get out of there?” Javier pipes up as the rival gangmen draw closer to the central building.

“I don’t know, Javier.” Lenny says with concern. “We might want to start a- wait.” He cuts himself off as he catches rapid movement below. He sees Arthur and the stranger running out of the back of the main building. “Arthur’s running off…” he says. He sees as the two men dive behind an abandoned minecart.

Before he can relay this to Javier the building they came from explodes. A plume of fire and smoke shoots into the sky. The concussive force knocks Lenny back into the snow and causes Javier to stumble backward. Debris flies in all directions from the central point. The O’Driscolls are either engulfed in flames or struck by the mess that soars at impossible speeds. The fire catches on nearby crates and sends them aflame. As the smoke of the explosion clears there stands a burning building in its wake.

Frederick pokes his head up from cover and scans the aftermath, wincing at the smell of burning flesh. He sees no man left standing and lets out a sigh of and sinks back down behind the minecart. He grabs his left shoulder as he slumps into the snow. His face is twisted in pain.

Arthur narrows his eyes suspiciously at Frederick as the apparent injury plagues him. “Something wrong with your shoulder?”

Frederick lets out a frustrated groan. “Bullet wound.”

Arthur feels an anxious buzz hum at the center of his back. Something seems wrong about the placement of the wound. Where he’s found this stranger among absolute carnage. Arthur tries to place the significance, and his mind keeps going back to the night before. “You gonna tell me what you’re doing out here, Mr. Abberline?”

Frederick takes a moment to acknowledge the question, his head slumps forward for a moment before he rests it back against the cart. “Do you mind telling me your name first?”

Arthur gives the man a sour look before responding. “Arthur Morgan.”

“Well, Mr. Morgan. The O’Driscolls in this camp held me captive for three days.” His words come out roughly. His voice growing hoarse as he uses it further. Arthur feels a twinge of pity for the man. The pain, the shame, in his words speaks volumes to the truth of it. Yet Arthur still feels like he isn’t telling the whole truth.

“How’d that attack happen?” His words are stern and untrusting. Arthur’s gaze is fixed in a wary glare on Frederick as he sits beside him.

The older man seems to grit his teeth as he turns to look at Arthur. The words looking as if they’re on the tip of his tongue yet he holds them back. He opens his mouth to speak.

“They’re over there!”

_Shit._

There’s more of them.

Arthur can see their black coats and green scarves as they shuffle hastily through the snow coming into the camp. He looks around quickly and spots a repeater sitting beside one of the corpses. He curses himself for what he’s about to do, but dire situations and all that.

He grabs up the gun and hands it to Frederick as the older man moves as quickly as he can to get up. He takes it and looks at Arthur almost disbelieving. “I hope you’re a good shot Mr. Abberline.”

Frederick simply nods and Arthur thinks he sees a small smirk beneath his thick beard.

The two move to separate covers quickly, narrowly avoiding several volleys of gunfire as the O’Driscolls aim for them. Shot by shot the two men take down their advancing attackers. Arthur notices that Frederick is a decent shot, having only missed a couple of times. He’s brazen and aggressive with his shots though, barely taking cover between fire unless he has to reload. Like the returned fire means nothing to him. With each few men downed he’d change cover without a second thought. Advancing further toward the path to kill those in the back of the firing line. Arthur couldn’t help but feel pressed to follow behind, keeping the O’Driscolls from getting closer.

He curses himself for that decision when one of Colm’s boys comes out from behind a tree. Out of his field of vision as he tackles him from around the waist. Arthur hits the snow with a hard thud and his gun flies from his grip. He stares up at the rival gang member as he stands above him with sickening teeth and an equally sickening smile at the end of the gun barrel. Arthur feels fear shoot through him as he realizes that he’s a trigger pull away from his brains spilling on the snow and he winces as he waits for that moment to come.

It doesn’t.

With a horrific snarl that freezes Arthur in place he watches as Frederick slams into his attacker. The two collide to the ground and Arthur watches as Frederick seems to strangle the man beneath him. Then he hears something _wrong_. Hears the gurgling of a man drowning in his own blood. Watches as the attacker grips his own throat desperately before Frederick ends it all quickly as he grabs Arthur’s revolver and puts a round in the poor bastard’s head.

Frederick stands from atop the freshly dead man and Arthur feels his blood run cold as the older man looks at him. The horrific growls and snarls of the beast from the night before echo in his mind as he stares into the same amber eyes from the night before. But there is something different to them. Where last night they held some unholy rage and bloodlust there is something unplaceable now. A deep sadness permeates them and Arthur realizes just how familiar he is with that look. He’d seen it in Hosea’s eyes. In Dutch’s. In his own. The pain of loss and shame. It’s a humanness brought to the eyes of a monster that freezes him in place.

He stays still as Frederick shifts his hold on the gun, holding it to him handle first. Every thought that flies through Arthur’s mind teeters between rage and sympathy. The sound of bullets flying past them suddenly pulls Arthur back to reality. He lunges forward from the ground to grab his gun and immediately fires at one of the O’Driscolls nearing them. Frederick quickly ducks back behind cover and returns fire.

Within moments the rest of the men fall and Arthur is left alone with Frederick as the kicked up snow settles. He looks over the fallen and sees Frederick standing from cover and leaning upon one of the crates. He sets the gun down and grabs his shoulder again. He looks more like a wounded man than a cold blooded monster. But the images that flash through Arthur’s mind of last night push him to believe otherwise. He stands from his cover and stalks over to Frederick.

“I can explain.” Frederick says, stopping Arthur in his tracks. “It will sound outlandish, but I ask that you listen honestly.”

“Mr. Abberline, after the last couple of days I’d believe anything you tell me.” Arthur says gruffly.

Frederick lets out a short chuckle before his expression returns to being somber. “I…I have a condition that can make me dangerous under the right circumstances.” His words are measured and he sounds like he’s trying to dance around a more blunt explanation.

“Condition? So you killed these men because of a _condition_?”

Frederick looks down at his feet. “Yes.” He says bluntly.

Arthur narrows his eyes and steps closer to Frederick, his gun still in his hand. “This condition got a name?”

Frederick looks back up at Arthur. “Lycanthropy.”

Arthur raises his brow curiously. He’s heard that word before but he doesn’t know it enough to place it properly. Frederick sees that he doesn’t quite know the word and lets out a frustrated sigh. “The more common word for it is _werewolf_.” He says that word with such venom and hatred but Arthur still looks at him horrified.

John was right. Or this man has lost his mind completely but Arthur remembers his eyes, and the wound on his shoulder and then everything just _clicks_. He backs away from him his gaze half staring into nothing as his fears over Dutch come roaring back into his mind. The thought that the man that helped raise him might become the very monster that attacked him makes his head spin.

“I know it sounds fantastically horrific, but its all true.”

“You’re using a lot of fancy words for _monster_.” Arthur spits out.

Frederick winces at the remark. Arthur then gets brazen, and angry. He advances on Frederick with rage in his green eyes. “You attacked a man last night and you sit there acting like the god damn victim!”

“I what?!” Frederick asks. All of the color suddenly drains from his face and he looks as if he’s seen a ghost.

Arthur scoffs at him. “Oh don’t pretend-“

“There is no pretending Mr. Morgan I truly do not remember what happened last night after the moon rose.” He stands defensively and closes the distance between them. “What happened?” He asks simply, his tone grave.

Arthur doesn’t pay much attention to the sound of nearing horses as he glares at Frederick. “You attacked two men last night. Two men that I consider family. One of em’s got a broken leg and some fancy new scars the other was bitten and nearly bled to death. The only thing that kept you from attacking the rest of us was a silver bullet in your shoulder.”

Frederick falls silent, and the harsh expression on his face softens. “I’m sorry.” He says quietly, but with enough conviction behind it.

Though sincerity aside, the apology still sends Arthur over the edge. “Sorry!?” He barks out. His drops his gun and his hands fly up to Frederick’s throat. In mere seconds he’s choking the older man and shoving him down onto one of the crates as his hold tightens. “You’re gonna stand here and say sorry about nearly killing a man!?” He shouts in Frederick’s face as the man chokes and gasps for the air that was being stolen from him.

“M-Mr. Morgan” Frederick tries to speak though his words are strained. “I understand you are upset.” He coughs and screws his eyes shut as Arthur tightens his hold again.

“Upset! Oh I’m more than upset!”

Frederick claws at Arthur’s wrists as he tries to pry his hands from his neck. He can’t find the words to speak as his windpipe is crushed. His eyes open suddenly and Arthur’s grip loosens in surprise and horror as he sees that his eyes burn that bright gold again.

Frederick’s legs rear up and plant themselves on Arthur’s chest as he kicks him off. The strength pushes the wind from Arthur’s lungs as he goes flying backward several feet. Frederick gasps and falls from the crate to his knees as his hand goes to his neck. Both men lay upon the ground trying to take air into the lungs.

“Arthur!” Lenny cries out as he sees Arthur hit the ground. Both he and Javier are running up to him in an instant. Lenny helps Arthur up as Javier is beside them holding his sawn off on Frederick. “The hell is going on?” He asks as Arthur gets up to his feet.

Frederick speaks first, still trying to breathe. “Your friend has a month.” He says somberly. “He’ll turn when the full moon rises. And it isn’t just one night. Not like the stories. The moon is full for _three_ nights.”

Arthur looks at him horrified again. “Three?!” Then the dread suddenly sinks into his chest as he realizes this isn’t just a warning for Dutch. But a warning for them all right now. “What night is it for you?” He asks, completely leaning into the concept as his eyes suddenly go to the sky. So much of the day has already passed and the sun is dipping below the horizon. The only light now coming from the last sliver of sunlight and the building that burns near them all. There is a sliver of the moon rising on the eastern horizon and it looks fat and full.

“ **Run**.” Frederick finally says as he looks back to the three men. His eyes still burn that horrifying amber.

Lenny stares horrified at Frederick. “What’s wrong with his eyes?”

Arthur is already running to grab his hat. “We need to leave. Now.”

Lenny and Javier don’t object as they follow Arthur’s lead, leaving Frederick behind in the snow as they run for their horses. “Arthur you mind explaining what’s going on?” Javier yells out as the three men hop onto their horses.

“I’ll explain once we’ve gotten the hell away from here.” Arthur yells as he spurs his horse into an immediate gallop. Lenny and Javier follow behind him. As they ride Arthur watches the sky anxiously. The last slivers of sunlight disappear below the horizon as the rooftops of their camp just barely come into view.

He turns around to face Lenny and Javier. “As much as I hate to say it, John was right.” Both of the men look at Arthur as if he’s lost his mind.

“About the werewolf?” Javier asks. Arthur nods in response.

Lenny chuckles nervously. “Y’know I would’ve called you crazy for that Arthur, but there was something wrong with that man’s eyes.”

Arthur opens his mouth to speak but stops himself. Even as they were running away those eyes held no anger or malice. Only fear and pain. He wonders if he should’ve shot him before they left. But in the end if he didn’t have silver bullets would that have done anything?

They all make it back to camp just as the moon begins rising further into the sky. Immediately they’re greeted by Mrs. Grimshaw and the girls. “The hell happened out there?!” She questions scathingly.

“We heard the explosion from here!” Mary-Beth chimes in, her tone full of wonder and worry.

“Got into a sticky situation.” Arthur speeds through his words as he hops off of his horse. He ignores Grimshaw's glare entirely as he ties the lead to the hitching post. “Got out of it fine, but I need to talk with Hosea.” He’s running off toward their shared cabin even as Lenny calls after him.

He sees Hosea exiting the cabin with a lantern, his face written with disappointment. “Thought I said no shooting?” He scolds as Arthur gets closer. Though his expression of disapproval is replaced with surprise as Arthur grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him back into the cabin.

“We need to talk for a minute.” Arthur says hurriedly as he closes the door behind them. Then he turns to look Hosea dead in the eyes. “I know what attacked Dutch.”

Hosea raises his brows in surprise, then narrows his eyes at Arthur. “You mean you ran into it at Colm's camp?”

Arthur nods half heartedly. “He was a man when I found him. Whole camp was massacred. Bodies everywhere and he was the only one left alive.” He pays no attention to how fast he begins speaking. “It was his eyes, Hosea. He had those same eyes.”

Throughout Arthur’s explanation Hosea's expression doesn’t change. It remains calm and even until he finishes. “You think Dutch was attacked by a werewolf?” He asks calmly.

“I know it sounds crazy, Hosea. But I saw it-"

Arthur’s words are cut off by a bone chilling howl that cuts through the night. Arthur turns pale as he realizes the possible danger they may all be in.

Hosea goes to speak but before he can get a word out they hear Dutch cry out from his room. The two share a look before bolting for his room. Hosea is the first through the threshold as he makes his way to Dutch’s side. Arthur stands back a bit further, looking over with concern. He’s curled up on his side, shaking like a leaf, and his face is twisted into a pained grimace.

“Dutch, what’s the matter?” Hosea asks, the worry clear in his voice as he takes his best friend’s hand. And Arthur sees Hosea wince as Dutch holds it in a vice grip.

“It hurts.” Dutch whines as another convulsion rips through him. “Everything hurts.” The weakness in his voice puts Arthur even more on edge. Twenty years and never had he heard Dutch sound so fragile. So _scared_.

“Arthur, go get the Reverend.” Hosea orders. Arthur nods and takes one last look at Dutch as he leaves. His eyes are open, and Arthur can’t help but feel his heart drop. He sees a ring of amber blooming out from his pupils.

_Shit._

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up hitting far too many roadblocks writing this chapter than expected, whoops! I'm going to try to keep up a biweekly update with this, but that is subject to other life interference. 
> 
> Also for those who have seen the 2010 Wolfman, oh yes it's that Frederick Abberline. (Not gonna label this a crossover though because he is the only character that comes in from that movie as I don't like dangling sequel points.)


End file.
